Solace
by vexatively
Summary: He should have expected the question, did expect it, but still fumbled with the answer. "Why do you drink, Mushin-sama?"


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**Solace**  
_by **vexatively  
**_

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_"Drink some sake, boy. You're too sober."_

_"What will it do? What can _anything _do?" The bitter remark made the elder's hands, carefully balancing the sakazuki, pause on their way to his lips._

_"It can provide comfort when you feel there is none. A rock in a tumultuous world." At the mention of 'comfort', the boy's steady gaze flickered over to an abandoned scrap of fabric, once a blanket since birth. It hadn't been touched since a few months ago, when he had a talk with his father about 'being a man'._

_"Chichi-ue always says—said that warm fuzzy feelings are for girls and weaklings." His eyes, the infamous violet orbs that the males of his lineage had, were solemn. Too solemn. It was only a few days after Mitsuto had died; Miroku seemed to have wizened overnight._

_"Bah. Your old man was always overly serious."_

_Silence._

_"Why do you drink, Mushin-sama?"_

Because it's the only way I know,_ Mushin__ wanted to say. _To mourn. To celebrate. To drown. To live.

_"Each time I take a sip, it's like revisiting an old friend." His standard response: vague, ambiguous._

_Miroku looked at him, seemingly absorbing his words._

_"May I have a sip, Mushin-sama?"_

_The stout man relinquished his plate, letting the small boy sample. Through his bushy eyebrows, he could see the boy shudder at the strong taste. He held small hands out for more._

_"May I have another, Mushin-sama?" Miroku was so fragile, in his oversized purple robes._

_"No, Miroku." He looked confused, his head cocked to one side._

_Mushin__ ruffled the boy's hair; he was like a son to him now. Something precious to protect. His slightly drunken glance drifted towards the sealed kazaana. It appeared in Miroku's palm just after his sire's death and was only small. It would grow, though. Both males knew what would happen– the inevitable._

_"This is _my_ solace. My warm fuzzy feelings." Mushin chuckled at the term. "Someday, you'll have your own solace. Somewhere you can always find comfort in, because you can trust in it wholeheartedly."_

_He could see his charge nodding off._

_"I won't find it, because there's nothing for me," Miroku grumbled into his sleeve as he rubbed his eyes. "Because I'm not a girl. Because I **can't** be weak. Because I have to end the curse. Because I'm supposed to be strong. Because I need to find someone to bear m—" He slumped into the futon, snoring lightly.  
_

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"Well… I guess we'll be going now." Mushin blinked in surprise, but in his current state, it could have been mistaken for his usual drunken stupor.

Miroku had learned to hide himself well, evasive and ostensibly simple. He made his master proud. "Hn," he grunted in agreement; his foster son started making his way down the numerous steps, shakujo jingling. A pleased smile broke out on his face.

_Good luck, Miroku._  
Be safe, Miroku.  
Don't you dare die, Miroku.  
Come back to me, Miroku.

Mushin could see his head turning, almost. But it didn't and for that he was glad. Otherwise, he might have seen the lone tear running down a ruddy cheek. It disappeared into his moustache long before anyone saw it, and through his well-worn mask.

He was about to turn around and return to the cool shade of the indoors when something made him pause. Miroku was flirting with one of the girls from the village. _Rieka? Riona? Ruriko?_

That was nothing new. But not even a second later, he flew backwards, hitting his head against a stone step. The only evidence to what could have caused the lightning-fast phenomenon was in the form of a ticked off girl with a piercing hangover.

Mushin chuckled. He didn't miss the look that flashed on Miroku's face. One of complete and utter belonging.

_Warm fuzzy feelings indeed…_

Mushin turned around slowly, swaying to the pounding beat in his head. He ambled off drunkenly, an ear-to-ear grin splayed across his homely face.

_One never knows whose path he will cross as he travels down his own. Miroku, I'm glad you've found your warm fuzzy feelings. I'm glad your path came across hers._

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_**  
**__**Disclaimer: **__Inuyasha has yet to be mine. The rights of claiming this little slice of genius goes to Rumiko Takahashi-sama alone. But, I _do_ enjoy playing with the odd character to satisfy my possums.__**  
**_

_**E/N: **Originally posted for the iyfic(underscore)contest's Week 132 (Warm Fuzzy Feelings) theme challenge on February 18, 2008.  
_


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